Things Not Spoken
by Lupeye
Summary: A tragic accident with Russell Clay sparks old family problems between both his parents as they struggle to find a cure for their son. Meanwhile, back on Cybertron, the Autobot Council make new decisions on the matter of Cybertron's and Earth's relationship. (TF RID 2015)
1. The Lake Where Golf Balls Never Return

Wily-Mind: This is an edited and slightly revision of chapter one. The characters have not changed and the whole plot will remain the same with slight tweaking. I know I have kept you all waiting and revision chapters aren't exactly what you all have been waiting and I apologize for these reasons. Again, I had lacked in research on getting the science-aspect of my story accurately. I'm a full-time student but I'll be more adamant about updating newer chapters. Thanks everyone for your patience and a shout out to all my story's reviewers and followers!

.o.

During the summertime, the football field was in its prime. The grass was cut short, the white lines that bordered the field could be seen, and the goal post was in mildly-good condition. But it was the children who brought spirit to the field. Kids who practiced for teams at school could easily use this field. It was when the first snowfall impacted Crown City is when the kids knew it was time to call it quits for the field for football. There would be no more spiking and tossing the ball to one another or teams for performing defense and offense. Football season was over and the kids were at peace with that. Instead of falling and eating dirt and grass, they had fun enduring falling face-first into piles of snow after sledding down the hills in the park.

A large group of youths gathered to Creek Jungle Park, just south of the field, with their sleds prepared to journey down the slopes. A girl with ginger hair down to her shoulders faced toward the grayish-blue horizon as she stood atop the white hill. Behind her were seven other kids around the same ages of eleven and thirteen. They were all on their sleds as they awaited her direction to wave her gloved hand for them to go.

"I want a clean race!" the girl said flatly, "No shoving other races off of their sleds, no snowballs to the face, and—"

She waited a moment to catch her breath. Finally, she yelled to the racers, "—You crash and burn, you're out!"

After slicing the crisp air with her hand, the sled-riders bolted from the flat ground and down the sloping hill. Particles of snow kicked up from all side of the sleds as the kids dug their hands into the snow at a rapid pace to pick up speed. A boy with blonde curly hair passed through five of the racers to come in a tying line with a boy with ruffled, brunette hair. Blonde bared his teeth into a toothy grin at the other boy. With a swipe of his fist, Blonde struck the other boy in the face with a harsh snowball.

The snowball victim flinched for a split second. He managed to regain control of his steering and stopped his sled for the moment. He rubbed the remaining powdered white stuff off his face and narrowed his eyes onto the racer who tried to sabotage him. A sudden feeling of added weight on the back of his sled caused him to jolt. The brunette boy turned his head around to see a girl grinning down at him. The falling snow made her tawny shoulder-length hair start to twinkle.

"Hurry, Rusty!" she said with high determination, "Aaron's gonna win!"

Rusty, or "Russell", shot an ambitious smile at his friend, and the two racers tore off in one sled. Russell's friend, Hank, was awesome and not just because she was a girl who wasn't afraid to play football. She was awesome because she had genuine support for all her friends, and especially those she saw potential in. Russell knew from going back to when he first met Hank that she had a wild and brave nature to her. Her pride for her ambitiousness sometimes influenced Russell at times like this.

Blonde's, or Aaron Skinner's, spirits rose when he was nearing the finish line at the bottom of the hill. The one word that sung in his mind was "winner." Aaron's mental one-word-song ended when a tidal wave of snow smacked into his side. The boy lost control of his sled and started to sway uncontrollably. He flipped head-over-heels from his sled and ate a pile of fresh snow. His face boiling red face could have melted the snow off.

Kids cheered wildly as arms flailed in the air and hands clapped as the one sled carrying the two passengers crossed the finish line. "Russell! Hank! Russell! Hank!" they sung.

Aaron pushed himself up from the snow with both his hands and got up. He spitefully gazed down at his two new enemies, Russell and Hank, probably more so on Russell. Russell sat in the front while Hank stood in the back of the lone sled that won the race. The audience of kids crowded around the two racers and continued their cheering. Aaron didn't even bother to scrub the snow from his reddened face and he marched the rest of his way down the hill.

"Good job guys!" a boy named Butch gave a thumbs up to Russell and Hank.

"I have to admit, that was a good trick getting on Russell's sled right after he stopped," a girl named Sabrina flashed a smile at Hank.

"Yeah!" Aaron busted through the crowd, "A _trick_!"

Russell turned to face Aaron and each boy stared the other down like rival predators ready to mangle the other apart for a carcass. Russell got up from the sled, but at the same time kept his distance from Aaron. The teenager towered five inches over Russell and already had developed premature muscles. Hank immediately approached Russell's side when Aaron began closing in.

"You broke the rules, Aaron, about no sabotaging. You knew the race would be fair game once you cheated at that point," she finished flatly.

A heated silence trembled through the crowd as Aaron, one of the oldest in the group, refused to respond back to Hank's words. Instead, his piercing golden eyes scanned from Russell to Hank, and back again. Russell nervously licked his lips as he followed Hank's cue and clutched his fists that were stationed at his sides just in case. Then, Aaron loudly sniffed the air, turned his head the other way, and spat.

"Like I've got time to play on this rinky-dink hill. I'm going to the other place," he sneered. He picked up his heavy, black navy boots and started to tread toward the exit of the park.

The held-up tension inside Russell and the other kids fled their systems when they saw that Aaron was leaving. His systems nearly cooled until he noticed something of Hank. Her brows narrowed and her lips spread slightly apart as if she were about to say something. Oh, God. Going back to her wild and brave nature, Russell knew that twinkling ambiguity in Hank's eyes.

"What place?" Hank asked

As if a performer on stage responding to his cue to speak, Aaron snapped his neck to look back at the "toddlers" and smiled broadly. "Why, it's the best and most thrilling slope there is in Crown City!" he paused for a long five seconds, "But it's a PG-13 rating."

Hank's shined in curiosity as she approached Aaron closer, the snow crunching beneath her L.L. Bean boots. Was it curiosity? Russell thought to himself about that. After a semester of getting to know Hank, Russell knew that it was her accepting yet another on of their foe's challenge. Russell's frown grew lower. He prayed he Hank wouldn't encourage Aaron to go on and naively follow the older teen to this "PG-13 rated hill." Making a daring, probably suicidal, decision, Russell intervened to try and burn out a spark before it exploded.

"Whatever it is," he managed to speak up for the first time, "I'm sure it's not worth our time." Russell tried to sound as bravado as he could to make his stand against Aaron's goading to get the preteens to come with him.

Hank gave Russell a light punch to the arm and the boy replied by giving her a pouting look. "Don't be like that!" she snapped at him. Crossing her arms over her chest with pride, she turned her back to Aaron to boast "We'll take you up on your offer!"

Aaron's smile was so broad that it could have snapped his face in half. "So be it," he said with a hint of joy. He raised his hand into the air like the girl who had flagged the sledding competition prior. "Listen up you toddlers!" he called, "I'm going to need big plastic bags that can be worn as shirts. Y' hear me? Plastic bags that can be worn as shirts! Second, I'm gonna need some greasing oil."

After an hour of hunting down the bizarre combination of supplies, the kids returned to the park. Seeing that his supply list was brought, Aaron agreed to have the younger ones know where the "PG-13 rating slope" was located.

"High Rise Golf Course?" yelled Russell in disbelief. It was true that the hills in the golf course could rise at least thirty to forty feet at height. There was a humungous lake that stretched a quarter-mile across the course. Russell had remembered from his dad, Denny Clay, who frequently played there when not at his junkyard. His father one time told him that so many golf balls were lost in that lake. Not even the scuba diving staff could find all the balls in the murky depths. Also, Russell knew that the property was prohibited from people who weren't golfers or spectators. However, Russell would see people breaking the rules by sneaking into the course to walk their dogs.

Russell looked to Hank who shared the same concern on her face. She looked up to Aaron who stood only a few feet away from them. Ever so quietly, she confessed what both Russell had been thinking about. "But it's not open to the public," she whispered.

Aaron placed his hands on his hips, rolled back his neck, and gave a full hardy laugh. "I knew you babies wouldn't be up to the challenge!" he coughed a little as he cackled. Aaron began to coo in a tiny voice, "Aww, wittle Rusty and Hankie are too scared for t' slopes? I can see you two wiping the snot and tears from your faces, you're both so scared!"

Russell and Hank scrunched their faces at him and his snide tone. It was either they go along with Aaron or they would never hear the end of his tormenting voice and insults. In complete unison and steady voices, Russell and Hank both said, "We'll go!"

.o.

Only five kids, Russell, Hank, Butch, Oak, and Justin dared to follow Aaron. The older boy shepherd the twelve-year-olds along the outside fence that cut High Rise Golf Course off from the public area. Aaron knew of a hole in the fence that was big enough even for him to slip through. One-by-one, each followed pursuit until they were inside the field.

They moved as fast as they could through the depth of sixteen-inches of snow. One kid stumbled and Aaron rolled his eyes in annoyance. The three kids who would be watching the race were carrying the supplies needed for this new "challenge." Russell started to lag behind a little to come next to Hank. He needed to ask her something that would be out of Aaron's hearing range.

"Why's Aaron hanging out with us anyways?" Russell asked in a hushed tone, "Isn't he like, older, or something?

Hank whispered, "He's fifteen." Russell's bewildered expression made her look back to Aaron in a worrisome expression of her own. "My older sister goes to high school with him. She says he doesn't really have any friends. He even asked her out a date one time."

Russell's brows rose. Hank saw this, stuck out her tongue in disgust, and shook her head. She started to whisper again, "Of course she didn't accept. But that's not the creepiest part." The brunette closed her eyes, trying to remember what her sister had described Aaron's reaction as. "She told me Aaron looked like a small child who couldn't get his favorite toy in the store." That eerie description of Aaron sent a cold chill down Hank's spine. She nearly stumbled in the deep snow before Russell caught her and held her steady. Hank flashed him a smile and Russell returned it.

That was what Bumblebee had always taught Russell. To always aid a friend and ally. But there was another word of advice from Bee that Russell knew he was ignoring: never do something you're not comfortable with or know that's wrong. But Russell was unsure as to why he was ignoring that advice right now.

The five preteens and official lone teen came to the top of a steep hill that overlooked the entire course. Russell's eyes scanned the forest of dark-green pine trees below. His blue eyes glowed in horror when his eyes fell on the lake that was rumored to be bottomless. The cold weather had given it a clean icy surface.

"Behold toddlers!" Aaron waved his hand across the scenescape for his small party to see. "The best and most thrilling slope in all of Crown City!"

"Oh-kay," one skeptical kid, Justin spoke up. He carried the heavy-duty garbage bag. "But why didn't we bring our sleds? How are we supposed to get down this damn thing?"

Russell looked to his friend like he was crazy for not even considering the frozen lake at the bottom of the steep hill. He opened his mouth to mention the body of water but Aaron beat him to Justin's question.

"Are you deaf? Are you stupid?" Aaron bared his teeth at the younger boy who's elbows now started to tremble. Justin flinched when the older teen reached for him. The kids were expecting Aaron to strike their friend. Instead, Aaron eerily and simply snatched up the box of heavy-duty garbage bags from the sweating boy. "Yeah, that's what I thought, stupid." Aaron ripped open the lid and stared at the open box for a moment.

Russell took his eyes off Aaron to focus on Justin to make sure his friend was still standing from the antagonizing teen's sudden gesture. It was a mistake on Russell's part as he was snatched by Aaron by his front collar and pulled tightly toward his taller figure.

"Let him go!" Hank blurted out. She ran to pull one of Aaron's arms off Russell but was knocked aside by the fifteen-year-old's powerful arm she had tried to grab. Hank fell into the snow with an inglorious plop and watched as Aaron subdued the squirming Russell. Oak, Justin, and even Butch who was the first one to pick fights, stood frozen in pure intimidation.

Aaron seized and pulled both Russell's hands and arms through the two corners of the black bag until they broke through the plastic's surface. Abruptly, he released Russell, and stood back to reveal to the other twelve year olds what he meant by the bags being a necessity. There, Russell stood with a humongous, black garbage bag for a shirt. His arms poked through each corner of the bag and it was awkward to move in. Hank would've laughed if the creepy aura from Aaron's intense body wasn't still bothering her.

Russell felt helpless as Aaron turned toward Butch and grabbed the greasing oil. The older boy opened the can and ungloved his hand. He dipped his hand into the loose substance until he had a handful of running, greasy oil in his palm. He began to slather Russell's bagged shirt with the stuff. Russell, joined by the others except for Aaron, stuck out their tongues in disgust.

"Put that tongue back in your mouth before I slather this goop on it!" Aaron scowled at him. Not wanting to test Aaron's warning, Russell quickly pulled his tongue back in.

Aaron stepped aside and did another wave motion with his hand over Russell. "This! Is what we needed the supplies for."

"It looks stupid if you ask me," Oak wrinkled her nose. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest at the sight of Aaron's horrid fashion makeover on Russell.

"No," Aaron pointed at Justin and noted a hint back to what he labeled the boy. "That's stupid right there. Now toddlers, this is where the rules take place." Aaron faced the scenery again and pointed down the slope. His finger pointed to the direction in whence he spoke. "The garbage bag shirt is the surface and the greasing oil is the accelerator for the chest area when sliding down the hill."

Russell's baby-blue eyes widened in terror as they stared into the hot and piercing golden ones of Aaron's. "You mean…," Russell was cut off by Aaron nodding at him.

"That's right, loser," Aaron snatched the boy by the arm and dropped him belly-first onto the snow. Aaron leaned down and whispered ever so quietly into Russell's left ear, "you're the sled." After Aaron finished, Russell was shoved from the surface of the forty-foot tall slope and down toward the ground that only lay feet away from the lake.

Aaron cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered down, "Extend one arm out to stop the sliding! Remember, if you don't go over the ice-covered lake, you lose!"

"You creep! He can die!" Hank flailed her fists at Aaron only to be pushed away again. Aaron then got an idea that brought a wicked smile to his face. He turned toward Hank who was trying to steady herself back up. She yelped when Aaron grabbed her by the scruff and shook her.

"Not if he extends his arm out he won't," he snarled. The assaulting bully pulled up a bag toward Hank, "I'm guessing you'd like to go next, right? Oh, I wish your sister, Connie, were here to see you win this challenge you wanted so badly to beat."

.o.

Russell let out a primal scream. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" he cursed himself for falling for such a stupid trick this was. Normally, the only time when Russell ever heard forbidden language were from his dad. It was when Denny was fixing up ornaments that got demolished in the crashes caused by the Autobots that made the adult man go into a fowl wording rage. Russell opened his eyes and estimated he was only twenty-five feet away from the lake now.

A surge of painful pleading and praying filled Russell's mind. He wanted to scream for Dad, Bumblebee, and the others to come and save him. Even his mom who was working in Seattle at the time crossed his mind. Russell wanted nothing more than to call out for his loved ones now. Low ground was nearing and the grease from the bottom of his bagged shirt accelerated his speed. Thirteen feet away now.

"Oh my, God!" a voice Russell heard from on top the hill, "Here's really not stopping!" Russell vaguely made out that the voice was Aaron's; "Russell Clay! Are you crazy? Stop yourself!"

The twelve-year-old extended his arm like Aaron instructed him. He prayed it would work but he doubted it since there was such short distance between him and the bottom of the slope. He was now seven feet away.

The extension of Russell's arm was enough to break his speed for a split second. He switched directions and spun on his stomach like a dreidel. The spinning broke into him toppling over and rolling the rest of the way on the snowy ground. The world around him was spinning, and thus causing the boy to become whiplashed. He wanted to hurl but somehow wasn't able to. He kept spinning until he came to a slippery end on the ice-covered lake.

In pure fright, Russell laid there in his place on the icy and cold surface. He was still stunned as his heartbeat raced faster than his belly-sliding did. He kept thinking of Dad and Team Bee. They would come! They would come and get him out of this mess. He'd soon be embraced in his dad's huge arms for a comforting hug. Russell's eyes were shut wanting nothing but for this horrifying experience to go away. It took a chorus of voices yelling to get him to open his eyes from their dark abyss.

"Russell!" the kids came, more of tumbling down, the opposite side of the hill that was less steep than the one Russell took.

"Russell, oh my, God, man!" cried Aaron, "I'm so sorry!" If Russell had looked up, he would have seen tears streaming down the bully's face. There sounded a pang of regret and anger toward oneself in Aaron's voice

Russell heard a sharp smacking sound followed by an "ow!" The punch was most likely caused by Hank who planted it upon Aaron's arm trying to get him to shut up. The young boy's face was still frozen downward. He looked beyond the icy wall that separated him from sinking and straight down into the endless murky depths of the lake. How many unfortunate, deceased souls of youths were down there? Russell was afraid he'd be next.

"There's no time to start crying like a wuss!" Hank snapped at Aaron. Lucky for her, she was unharmed by him. Aaron had forgotten in trying to get a bagged-shirt over her by the time they saw Russell's state. "You got Russell into this mess, you find a way to get him out. Now!"

The ferocious girl gave another punch onto Aaron's receiving end. Aaron remained in a stationary posture, with his boots glued to the snow, as his gaze long and hard at the chaos he had rained down on these youths. Like an odd switch, he snapped his neck toward Hank and screamed, "What am I supposed to do?"

Justin, the former who was afraid of Aaron's rage in the beginning, was shaking his head. "Aaron's not going to help. He's scared!"

"It's a good thing we sent Oak to go get help from the recreation station," Butch added.

"Why, both of you little—" Aaron was cut off when Hank immediately separated both parties.

"Stop it!" she ordered, "We just need to keep Russell talking to us until help gets here." Butch and Justin bit their bottom lips and looked away. They were internally angry at themselves for forgetting about their friend's current situation. Even Hank was beside herself in disappointment of her own actions leading up to this. It was originally her fault that they were all here and Russell out on the lake. It was her fault, wasn't it?

"Hey Rusty," Hank managed a small smile as she bent down into the snow. When Russell failed to talk back, Hank continued speaking with him who was a good twenty feet out on the ice. "You were the champ today in the race," she spoke softly, "We really did a great job."

"Yeah!" Butch chimed in, "You really _broke_ through the race and…"

"Butch, stop it. You're making the situation worse. Rusty, why don't you try crawling over to us?"

Russell, still frozen in his spot, merely shook his head ever so slightly. Aaron hung back, fidgeting like a toddler as he watched those younger than him trying to coax his victim out from hell's lake.

"You can do it Rusty," Hank spoke fully confident of Russell's abilities, "We're all here for you, okay? Butch, Justin, me, and Oak as soon as she comes back with help, okay? Can you be brave enough to crawl across the lake for us?"

Russell blinked and tensed up. He pondered over Hank's words like they were his sole savior. He loosened his fetal position to be sprawled onto his belly. He nodded in a silent response.

Hank's heart fluttered and she smiled happily at her friend, silently mouthing the word "good." Russell slowly made his way back to the edge of the lake. He relaxed himself to the best of his ability as he made one gentle and forwarding motion at a time. One wrong move of his body that was forceful enough to break the ice would have him engulfed by the water. He felt like one of those newly born seal pups on the Antarctic glaciers on the nature channel.

It was coming to the point where Russell felt comfortable with trying to hoist himself up a bit. Maybe it would even get him to solid ground faster. The boy spread his gloved hands closer together and slightly lifted his chest off of the iced surface. There was a crick in the ice. Before anyone could process the situation, Russell's left hand broke through the ice, then his knees, and eventually all of him.

The voices of his friends were replaced with water rushing into his ears. His head pounded underneath the water like a drummer banging drumsticks against an instrument. Russell fought through the dropping temperature and flapped his arms like they had taken air. He resurfaced and gulped fresh oxygen. He barely made out what his friends and Aaron were screaming Hank was crying while Aaron slowly backup and fled from Russell's vision. Hank yelled something to Russell but he couldn't decipher it.

Sounds of what Russell thought to have been barking came into ear point. However, there was no time to be curious about the new sounds. The boy clung his freezing fingers to the edge of a piece of broken ice to climb onto. It worked against him as the broken land piece flipped over on top of him. He was back underwater.

Russell was slowly sinking to the eternal bottom of the endless lake. The bagged-shirt Aaron forced him into slipped off his body and re-floated to the surface, blackening out the sunlight pouring into the icy depth. His entire body was numb and eventually his appendages failed to perform the least amount of twitching motions. Dad. Mom. He thought they would never find him or his body. The last thing he remembered was a shadow above the ice bursting into the freezing water and paddling straight down toward him. Russell would have smiled if he could at that moment, but instead he fell into a stilled sleep that easily overtook him.

.o.

The female German shepherd sneezed as she re-submerged from the chilled, murky water. She held the unconscious preteen by his jacket's hood in its teeth. The dog paddled her paws heavily through the harsh terrain to keep both aloft. The protector dog refused to let this boy go until commanded. This was the dog's mission right now. This was her training, not to let go until commanded.

A man blowing a whistle got the dog's attention. With a turn of her head, the dog started to paddle forward toward her owner. The man was dressed in a black coat with jeans. Four kids watched in suspense at the chaos slowly being brought under control.

"Bear!" the dog's owner ordered, "Bring! Bring here, Bear, bring!"

The dog paddled with more force after hearing her name called, and in just that moment, the adult had poked a net into the water. Like regular training practices, Bear made her way toward the noose attached the pole. Meanwhile, Bear still held onto the boy in her powerful jowls. The dog sneezed one last time before having her neck wrapped around by the net.

Quickly pulling, but still gently, the man reeled in both the dog and boy. The man told his working dog the keyword "release," and like that, Bear dispensed the boy onto the ground. The dog vigorously shook the water off her coat and stared at her owner, the boy, and the other four little humans. Bear proceeded to stand next to the sleeping boy that her owner held in his lap. The boy was blue in the face and the dog began to lick his hand to awaken him out of his stiff and glossy-eyed stare up at nothing in the cloudy sky. When it didn't work, the dog sat and whined.

"Good dog," the owner praised his dog, "Good girl. Good partner."

The man now shoved his partner, Bear, back. He laid the boy, which he came to identify from the boy's friends as Russell Clay, down on a large comforter he had prepared, and started giving CPR. He placed one flat palm over the other on top of Russell's chest. He pumped the boy's chest at a steady pace every other second. After ten seconds, he removed his hands, and pinched the boy's nose to breath air into the youth's mouth. He repeated this process for the next twelve minutes until lake water erupted from the boy's throat.

"Atta boy!" the man cheered. Ungracefully, the boy vomited extra water until he finally broke into a weak coughing fit, "don't worry, I'm a state trooper." The dark-toned adult then looked toward Russell's friends along with Oak who had originally alerted the officer about the situation. "You all were very lucky that I was driving by when your friend called me over," the adult heavily gasped as he was still trying to recover from the long process of CPR he had given.

Russell's eyes were still stiff and wide opened along with his pupils dilating. Before his rescuer could tell the other children to stay back, Russell's friends had swarmed him.

"Is he awake?"

"Is he okay?"

"Is he breathing?"

"Will he live?"

Shooing the kids away, the man began to swaddle Russell in the large blanket. He scooped the boy up and began to proceed to his car with Bear at his side. The concerned children followed without having to be asked. Once at his silver four-wheeled drive, the man opened the car door, and gently placed Russell in the backseat. Once he closed the door, he turned around to be greeted by the faces of Russell's four bewildered friends. They were all antsy as they fidgeted and tried to get a look inside his car through the windows.

The man had enough and pointed to all four, "Enough, go home. Now." The one known as "Hank" looked like she was ready to protest until the man put his hands on her shoulders. It wasn't in an authoritative manner but a comforting one. "Look, Hank, I know you're all worried. But I must get your friend to the nearest hospital for treatment asap. He's in critical condition because of his near drowning experience."

"I want you to take evidence and to know something before you leave," Hank urgently stated.

The state trooper's expression stiffened to a stern and assuming look. "Where's the perp who did this to your friend?" he bluntly demanded.

Nodding in response, Hank turned her back to the officer, and rushed back over to the cracked, opened body of water. The officer yelled an order for her to cease her impulsive motion but stopped when he saw her drag something huge and baggy out of the lake. She returned to his side and deposited a soggy, black garbage bag into his open arms. The adult furrowed a suspicious brow when he saw fingerprints still visible on the grease stains that covered the plastic.

"Aaron Skinner," Hank inhaled and exhaled heavily, trying to catch her breath from hauling over the plastic bag that was weighed down by water. " _He's_ the one who did this to my friend, Russell! He ran away before you got here. He lives near the convenient store on Yearling Street. I want to be the first to know when he's arrested!"

Astounded by the young girl's prestigious information, the officer smiled and nodded, "Will do. I'll call in a unit to investigate this."

"…What should I do now?"

"Do you know Russell's parents' phone numbers? Where they live?"

The girl nodded.

"Good, call his parents. Let them know I'll be taking Russell to Crown City Children's Hospital."

At the conversations end, the man got into his vehicle along with his dog. The engine roared to a start, and the vehicle, with Russell in tow, drove up the street where it disappeared into the direction of the hospital. Heart-fallen, Russell's rescuer looked in the back of his rearview mirror to stare at the four dumbfounded children who stood helplessly in their spot.

In all of Shepherd Fowler's years as a state trooper, he never once had a rescue mission such as this. Fowler looked back into the backseat where the blanketed boy lay motionlessly. "Hang on Russell Clay," he murmured as he revved his truck's engine and began to move forward.

All in the same minute, he picked up his cell phone that connected to the police station and ordered a swat over to Aaron Skinner's residence immediately. He then dialed the emergency room to alert them to be prepared for Russell's arrival. Once fulfilling his promise and job, Shepherd made high speed toward the children's hospital. All the meantime, Shepherd kept rethinking of the upstanding quick-thinking and devotion that Russell's friends had for him and the hellish situation.

This emotional and stressful job was usual family working business. His grandmother, June Darby, worked in an emergency room back in Jasper Nevada and his grandfather, William Fowler, worked as a US Army Ranger, and then switched to being a special agent with Unit E. Even his now deceased Uncle Jack Darby worked for the agency at one point. Unit E was and still currently the most private federal agencies on American soil. Shepherd knew little about what special operations his grandfather was involved with over at Unit E. However, he was told bedtime stories by his father, Eric Fowler, that Unit E made a death-sealed secret with knowing and working alongside "living titans from the stars." In past and future, Shepherd would keep on remembering those words told to him by his father that described the cryptic legend.

Either nurse, US Army Ranger, and or law enforcer, Fowlers and Darbies were hardcore soldiers in the eye of crisis and calling. From working in his emotional and risk-taking job and seeing injuries and mortalities that could've been prevented with one phone call, Shepherd was grateful that at least these young kids proved themselves today as they did.

.o.

Wily-Mind: This fanfic will revolve a lot around Russell Clay, his recovery, and his relationship with his parents. As for Aaron Skinner's character, I wanted to build an antagonist for this chapter that wasn't a Decepticon but a human character instead. Aaron is vengeful and just a plain "strange kid." I feel his motive to torture Hank than Russell was more in his plan. As for Shepherd Fowler, future chapters will reveal his family history.


	2. The Spark of Revival

Wily-Mind: It's officially three o'clock in the morning where I'm from! Huzzah for the god that is coffee and its gift of insomnia!

 **Solar-cycle: one Earth day**

 **Shantix: Cybertronian money system**

Denny Clay fiddled with polishing his new stock of ornamental animal figurines he had bought off his rival, Arnold Kowalski. He would make sure that the Autobots wouldn't accidentally harm his collection this time starting with the ornaments. It was a mind-blowing event this past summer for Denny and his son Russell. They met alien cyber-organisms called Autobots who were hunting Decepticon fugitives. One of the 'Bot teams was led by the yellow one called Bumblebee. His team consisted of two youths, Strongarm and Sideswipe, a rowdy Dinobot named Grimlock, a former bounty hunter named Drift and his two minicons, Slipstream and Jetstorm. Out of all the Autobots, Denny find himself most familiar with the small minicon-part-caretaker named Fixit. It was like an action-packed sci-fi movie Denny and Russell had fallen into.

Speaking of Fixit, the minicon came from behind with wash rags and a bucket. Danny shifted his focus to the small 'Bot and smiled warmly as he greeted the orange minicon. "Thanks, Fixit," he said as he received a rag.

Fixit laid his optics upon the ornaments and tilted his head to the side with fascination. "Denny Clay," he spoke, "What is the point of having sculptures of animals that represent our Decepticon convicts?"

"Well, um," Denny started and cut his sentence short. He always had trouble explaining the human fascination with sculptures to the minicon whether the figures be animals, people, modern art, etc. "You see Fixit—" the man began and then paused. Quickly, he found his lead and began to explain the process of a merry-go-round meant for human entertainment.

"Okay," Fixit replied, "seems reasonable enough." When Denny mentioned the word "kids," Fixit instantly thought of Denny's biological offspring. "By the way, where are the whereabouts of Russell?"

"Aw, he went off with his friends to go sledding," Denny answered as he gladly finished polishing down the last ornament. He picked himself up and turned toward the smoky-gray sky, "It's already getting dark. I should call him to get his butt back here before it gets too dangerous for him to walk back to the scrapyard."

Before Denny reached for his smartphone, the thing began to vibrate within his pant pocket. Denny pulled the phone out and slid his finger across the main screen. "'Ello," he answered in a casual uplifting voice.

"Hi…is this Russell's dad? Denny Clay?" came the voice on the other end.

Denny immediately recognized it as his son's friend, Hank. He answered back, "Hank! What a surprise. How are you? Is Russell there?"

"Um…good Mr. Clay, well, not really good. It's…really bad."

"Is everything okay? Do you kids need a ride home?"

"Mr. Clay…Russell's in the children's hospital in Crown City. We were outside playing and he…fell into a lake and…Oh god, Mr. Clay! I'm so sorry!"

"I-It's okay, Hank." Denny tried his best to console the girl and yet not to lose his mind himself. "You did good. Are you home? Okay, stay there while I hurry to go see Russell."

And it was hurrying to his truck that Denny did. The man trembled nervously as he hurried past Fixit while accidentally kicking over the wash bucket in his path. He walked to his RV and swung open the door. He cursed under his breath as he tried to find where his hidden keys to his pickup truck were. After tossing over a stack of messy papers from his desk, Denny heard a loud clanging sound that aroused from his metal garbage pail. He cursed again as he reached into the pail and pulled out his car keys.

Denny emerged from the RV not even bothering to close the door behind him. Fixit had followed him through this entire strenuous process. Denny jogged south toward the exit of the junkyard. He passed Bumblebee and the other Cybertronians, not even glancing up to acknowledge them. Bumblebee saw this odd behavior and lightly paced himself to be next to the racing man. The Cybertronian didn't need to scan the human's body temperature to know that something urgent had happened to cause Denny to go into this frantic state.

"Denny, what's wrong?" the lieutenant asked.

"Russell," Denny finally got to his truck and slammed the door behind him. He rolled his window down and poked his head through to meet Bumblebee eye-to-optic. "He fell into a freezing lake and is recovering in the hospital."

"Recovering?" Bumblebee's optics lit up and his shoulder plates rose.

"Let's hope," Denny responded. He started the truck's engine and drove back out of his scrapyard. He steered the vehicle onto the street and toward Crown City.

.o.

"What are we looking at?" asked a paramedic.

Two paramedics helped rush the gurney carrying the patient into the medical unit. An IV was attached and bandaged to the patient's right wrist. It was a package that compressed warming salt water into the boy's veins to counteract his freezing temperature.

"Twelve. Male. White," the second paramedic answered. "The patient had fallen into a lake at High Rise Golf Course. His body temperature is at 35 Celsius. We've managed to cut him free from his wet clothes."

If Russell Clay were conscious to be aware of his environment, he'd be the most embarrassed boy in the world. Right as he had gotten to the hospital, paramedics had removed all his clothes and was swaddled in new warmed blankets to keep his temperature from decreasing any further. He groggily watched the medical professionals at work once he was rolled into the operating room. They padded him with extra heated blankets and covered his face with a mask. He felt warm humidifying air enter his lungs as he breathed in.

"How's the airway-rewarming process working?" asked Sofia Rokos who was the leading physician. Sofia stopped to take a quick glance at the machine that surveyed the boy's current body temperature. The line that read 35 Celsius was slowly rising on the screen. Good. Next, she examined the electrocardiogram that monitored Russell's heartrate which surveyed his body temperature. Sofia was relieved that both statuses were the same.

Rokos turned to her staff and yelled, "Okay people! The patient's heartrate and temperature are rising equally. But we've got a long way to increase his warmth until it's equal to or above 37 Celsius, stat!"

Everyone rushed to work as they increased the heat in the airway-rewarming mask. Russell felt some sensation coming back to his fingers as the tips of them started to twitch. As Sofia and the nurses shuffled around him, he started to think of a memory of his younger-self and his parents. It was when they were still together and the day the arguments began. (continue)

.o.

A sharp beeping sound broke Sofia from her work. She looked at the electrocardiogram and her eyes grew when she saw the line escalating up the screen faster than the temperature line. She removed her mask and screamed, "He's entering into post cardiac arrest! This isn't normal rewarming hypothermia anymore! We have to cool this kid down to slow his heartrate before any permanent damage happens. We're switching to _therapeutic hypothermia_! Someone get me cooling blankets and the cooling catheter. I repeat everyone, we're reversing the patient's body temperature!"

Two nurses wheeled in a machine that had the monitor system at the base, just above the machine, and a tee-shaped neck where the heart and temperature monitor was. Removing the mask, and replacing the warming blankets with the chilled ones, Rokos and two senior nurses guided the other team members through the process. To prevent Russell from shivering (thus cause his heart impulses to surge, which in return would worsen his state) Russell had been heavily sedated and pharmacologically paralyzed. Sofia prayed the procedure would begin asap for the prevention of any sensory feeling and reflexes the boy may have during the targeted temperature management.

From all of Sofia's studies and practices, she knew that once the heart shut down, its respiratory system would fail to provide any oxygen to a person's internal organs which would create high mortality issues for the patient. However, no oxygen to the brain was the biggest factor to worry about. Deprivation of oxygen to the brain would cause severe neurological issues. Rokos knew that to avert the possibility of cardiac arrest, therapeutic hypothermic was the best option.

The senior nurses prepared the catheter as they unraveled the IV that would transport iced fluids from the catheter and into Russell's body. The injection needle at the tip of the IV had been carefully placed inside Russell's femoral vein which was located on the middle section of his left hip. His temperature was monitored through a probe and a young male nurse was stationed at the machine to keep constant vigilance.

"Don't leave that monitor," Rokos ordered the young trainee, "His temperature will let us know if the treatment is working."

An hour of anticipation succumbed the staff as they kept watch of Russell's body temperature and heartbeat statures. The EEG machine revealed no signs of Russell awakening out of his sedated state, or any signs of seizures that could possibly occur from the hypoxia. Eventually, Rokos pulled her mask down, and with a sigh of relief, she said, "Good job crew. Signs reveal that he's currently stable. I'll get a second unit in here to monitor the patient and his signs. The first phase of the treatment will take another 23 hours. We can rest now for the moment."

The staff rose in a cheer as they clapped for Rokos and the two senior nurses that had guided them through the medical procedure. Soon, they peeled off their rubber gloves and decontaminated themselves in the wash room next door. Rokos watched as her crew of paramedics left the operating room one at a time with despair. Her eyes slowly scanned the operating room's white walls, beaming lights, and soiled tools.

One of the superior nurses, a rugged male who had helped guide the therapeutic hypothermia, noticed Rokos' behavior. He gently asked, "What is it, Sofia?" The kid's alright now. His signs are good and he's still in his comatose. What else is bothering you?"

Sofia let out a heavy sigh as she rested her forehead onto the tips of her fingers. "These trainee paramedics are so young and naïve to the idea that they could fail in this room," she answered dryly. Deep in nightmarish thoughts, she blinked her eyes slowly, and looked to her friend and smiled, "Simi, have you ever felt that you were "God?"

"What are you talking about?" Simi turned his head to her and asked.

"I mean in the fact if you had a choice on who to revive and not to in this cold room?"

Simi gave the woman a sympathetic gaze, "Oh, Sofia, it's about Gracie, isn't it?"

"That's not what I was thinking of when I asked my question."

"Last I heard, she's doing better. Her latest kid will be born around March. It's a girl. Did you know that? Have you been calling her?"

Silence.

"Why? Why don't you keep in touch? For God sake, that baby will be your niece! You should be happy that Gracie has managed to get along with this pregnancy. And to answer your question, no I don't believe this room is a salvation for guaranteed living. We can only save so many. Now, If I had been the one to save that drunk driver, would I have gleefully jumped up to do it? No. But when I see a patient in critical need, I do what any doctor would do, I perform my job."

Sofia perked a small smile and dramatically rolled her eyes. "I would've loved to have seen him burn in Hell. But he lived. Gracie, not so lucky."

Simi shook his head and repeated, "It's our job to revive people in this room, Sofia, not to discriminate and judge." He looked to Russell, removed his glove, and gently brushed the side of the sleeping boy's face. The gesture was an empathetic and pitying at the same time. "Look at this kid who had managed to _help_. You are still able to change lives, Sofia. Like in this situation. With you guiding the treatment, you're able to bring this boy back to his parents." Shifting his eyes to his colleague he began again, "Truth is Sofia, from my point of view and _not_ a religious one, it's modern day medicine and technology that bring back the life back into those who are dying. Who gets to live and die is up to whoever is upstairs. Not ours."

Sofia looked to Russell. She knew this poor boy was going to face discrimination after he left this room. Normal people will either ignore or look upon him as a leper needing to be shipped out somewhere to a deserted island. Abandoned. Alone. Just like her "loved ones" now treated her sister, Gracie. Sofia wanted to hug herself, but remembered her professionalism, and instead, dug her hands into her pockets. Russell Clay was her first child patient when she transferred from the adult unit to the children's ward. As a leading physician, she had treated many adults with respiratory failure incidents. She had seen patients live, comatose for years, and die on her table. She had seen miracles for those who went braindead, revived, and went on to live partially independent lives again although their physical and mental states would be permanently out of whack. These were the lucky ones. It beat "ending up dead" as some would say.

Eventually, Sofia realized she had been making Simi wait while she was in her wondering thoughts. Sweeping the horrible memories out of her head, Sofia smiled to her associate and close friend, "Where the hell is that second batch of staff members? I have an hour-long break and I'm actually in the mood for the crappy food they sell downstairs in the courtyard."

Jared laughed quietly as the strong woman lopped outside the operating room and turned to snap at the first passing person to come and get Russell Clay moved to a recovery/observation room. Within two minutes of Sofia reigning down on the other staff crew, Russell and the machine supporting him were moved to a quiet sector. Sofia and Simi washed themselves up and headed out to eat.

.o.

The waiting room was _packed_. Denny had to apologize to a woman for almost plowing her over as he entered through the sliding doors. At the reception desk, Denny signed his name in, flashed his identification card to the female secretary, and demanded to see his son right away. Of course, she told him he had to wait for the doctor before seeing his son's condition. _Damnit to hell_ , Denny mentally cursed to himself. So, Denny sat for every dreadful minute that past. It was 9:46 at night when Denny leapt from his plastic chair as soon as a female doctor approached and addressed him. Adrenaline coursing through his blood, Denny barely could hear the doctor introduce herself as "Doctor Sofia Rokos."

"Where's my son?" Denny apprehensively asked.

"He's stable, Mr. Clay. He's in recovery now until he needs to go back in for the second part of his treatment."

Sofia raised her right hand to calm the father while her left hand laid lazily inside her white coat pocket. The woman was mentally and emotionally drained.

"What does "stable" mean? I want to see Russell. I have every right as a parent and legal guardian!"

"I understand Mr. Clay. If you would please follow me to the observation room, that'd be best. Also, did your wife step out? She's here with you, right?"

"…I just want to see my son."

.o.

Shepard Fowler, or "Shep," intently stared at the unconscious boy through the observation window. Earlier, at six o'clock that night, Shep and his partner, Bear, had saved a twelve-year-old's life from being devoured by an icy lake. The man looked down at his canine partner and pet her on the head. The stiff dog obediently laid at her owner's feet with just a hint of her moving her right ear to acknowledge him petting her. Bear was assigned to Shep two years ago, and up until now, most of all their cases of searches, rescues, and arrests had been successful. The two trusted each other and Shep did pull his weight when on the force. However, he believed that Bear pulled hers a longer distance.

Suddenly, the dog lifted her head to sound of approaching footsteps. Shep looked to his left and down the hospital hallway to see Dr. Rokos escorting a maple-brunette haired man to the same area the officer stood. Urgent, the strange man picked up his pace when Dr. Rokos pointed to the observation window.

"Easy girl," Shep whispered a command to Bear. The dog growled softly at the other man nearing but silenced when hearing the reassurance in her partner's voice.

Shep stood aside for the man for him to peer into the window. Making an easy guess, Shep assumed this stranger was most likely the father of the boy. The father's heavy breathing shortened to a heavy sigh. The father covered his gaping mouth with his hand to ease whatever chaotic thoughts were overwhelming him. When Shep saw the grown-man's blue eyes were starting to mist, Shep decided to move toward Dr. Rokos to give the man a moment.

"Mr. Clay," Dr. Rokos spoke, "Your son had been under freezing water for more than ten minutes. The lake he was playing on was located…" The doctor stopped mid-sentence to look at the state trooper who had brought Russell in.

Shep straightened the collar of his shirt and stepped forward. "At High Rise Golf Course in Crown City, Mr. Clay," he finished.

"And who are _you_ exactly?" Clay flashed him a suspicious glare.

"Shepard Fowler," Shep saluted the other man. The gesture was in no means a mocking one. "I work for the Crown City Police Department. Your son was lucky that I was walking by with my dog, Bear, here. His friends alerted me of his former position. Bear pulled him out of the lake which saved his life." "Thank you. For everything."

Shep nodded in response.

"He will live, if that's what you're worried about," Dr. Rokos' spoke up. The men's attention was set back on her. "However, in the operating room, Russell's vitals entered abnormal ratings. He suffered a cardiac arrest and his heart stopped beating for at least forty-five seconds."

"Oh, God...Is there…any side effects?"

"There may be chances of brain damage. We're hoping for the best outcome. But to be honest, the chances of Russell's mind and body escaping unscathed from his near-drowning and cardiac arrest are slim," Dr. Rokos finished her report to Mr. Clay on a solemn note. She hated doing this part to the patient's family. It made her insides want to twist and eventually collapse upon themselves.

"…Isn't there anything you can do to prevent any possible brain damage?"

"Unfortunately, there is no cure. We can only provide physical and Out-Of-Patient CPR therapy and psychological support. I'm sorry I can't sugarcoat this for you. I've seen these cases so many times that I figured it's best to tell a patient's family up front."

Denny, joyful that his son would live but horrified of his son's future, looked back to where his son slept. He asked, "What's the best treatment that I can give him?"

"Support and love. There's no greater therapy than that; believe me Mr. Clay. I would know."

.o.

Drift watched as his minicons, Slipstream and Jetstorm, chewed on their energon goodies. The two mechlings were growing stronger and stealthier each day. He smiled down at them. He remembered when he first took Slipstream and Jetstorm with him after he fled from Shadow Raker. Drift continued eyeing his students until they finished their treats and wiped away the energon from their faceplates. Drift's former, greedy sensei had beaten the minicons the day before for not stealing enough Shantix to meet his daily demand. Jetstorm and Slipstream began to speak to one another which caught Drift's attention and he leaned in to hear.

"I wonder how Russell is doing," Jetstorm was the first to speak up.

"When he makes his arrival back here, we can play Galactic Starships again!" Slipstream's optics shined happily. "He is to come back today is what his Creator, Denny, informed us."

Drift's face transformed into a glum expression. His students had no idea of the full story on Russell's current processor. He decided to set his students straight on Russell's condition. The warrior recomposed his stoic poise and cleared his vocal cords to get Slipstream's and Jetstorm's attention. When two sets of small cerulean optics shined on their tutor, Drift grew hesitant. He did not want to frighten his students as he was about to shed light on the situation, yet didn't want to sugarcoat too much either.

He decided he would put it in gentler terms. "I'm afraid Russell may need some time readjusting to all of us after his entire time away," Drift finally spoke.

Jetstorm and Slipstream luminously smiled up at the mech. Jetstorm chimed, "Yes, Master Drift. We know. We know Russell will be a little off-balanced, but once he sees us, I'm sure his memory will instantly come back to him."

Drift smiled warmly at Jetstorm who seemed to have seen and felt only life's pessimistic and unjustified-side only up until recently. Russell Clay had changed that in Jetstorm when the human taught him to just plainly "chill out." This helped the bondage between Jetstorm's and Slipstream's sparks to grow stronger and more entwined. Both brothers or "Spark Twins" began to walk, train, and battle in unison with one another. Drift couldn't bear to tell them that Russell's neurological and behavioral impairments were going to take more time to recover than what the minicons had presumably predicted. The tutor scooped up his prodigies and held them close to his chassis where his warm spark laid.

 **"My good mechlings,"** he whispered in their native Cybertronian tongue **, "Never forget to protect those who are weaker than yourselves. Be brave for those who can't be and never succumb to life's miseries even when reality seems bleak."**

Before Jetstorm and Slipstream had time to try and evaluate their teacher's personal advice, the sound of an engine drawing close to the scrapyard's entrance alerted all threes' sensors. Drift raised his head in caution as he contemplated who or what the newcomer was. In Denny's absence, the Autobots had taken great vigilance in their surveillance in case of any approaching humans. Bumblebee's number one rule was always "robots in disguise" and Drift knew this rule from the start. After all, he used his alternate mode to sneak upon the Decepticons he would take in for trial. Disguise also included Denny's customers and Russell's friends who stopped by regularly to see if the father and son had returned.

The ex-bounty hunter moved to the tall fence barrier that shielded the alien robots from the peering eyes of any Earthlings. Drift peeked over the top and saw that a blue pickup truck was rolling up Denny Clay's dirt-covered driveway. When the truck maneuvered around a pothole, Drift saw from an angle that the driver was none other than the adult male, himself. Bizarrely, he was not alone or with his offspring. In the passenger's seat, sat a woman with dark brunette hair that matched the shade of Russell's.

Drift's metal plating rose like cat's fur on the back of its neck when startled. Slipstream and Jetstorm wondered about their teacher's odd behavior since they could not see over the wall. When the large mech quickly shifted away from the gate, the minicons clung to his digits as not to fall out of their sensei's servos.

Drift couldn't make any sense of this current matter, almost just like all his adventures on Team Bee. Were there loose wires in Denny's processor! Frag it all, what compelled that human to take an Autobot-oblivious outsider into the scrapyard? He went to report this to Bumblebee immediately.

Drift navigated himself around the large piles of scrap-metals and rubbish until he hit the heart of the salvage yard. It was a densely-concealed area in which the stasis pods that housed Decepticons, the Alcemore, and the ship's remains were stationed. Bumblebee had two digits to the side of his helm, and Drift figured it was most likely a com-link from the Autobot known as "Prowl." The leading authoritative official and ex-military strategist of the newly restored Cybertronian city, known as "Praxus," wanted to have a full report on Bumblebee's team every three solar-cycles. Drift always had much respect for Prowl and his judgement in gaining as much data and information as he could. The data collection would help find the right means of strategies and supplies to aid the yellow lieutenant and his team. However, Drift didn't care at this point as he felt that it was necessary for him to interrupt the leader.

As Drift opened his dentals to speak, he felt a pang of irritation as Bumblebee beat him to the punch. The yellow lieutenant faced in the direction of his team and urgently called out, "Okay guys." He waited until he had their undivided attention (or whatever attention they were capable of giving) as Strongarm smacked the back of Sideswipe's helm to listen to their leader. "Thank you Strongarm. Denny Clay is back and he's escorting a guest. Her name is Carol. She's Denny's—" The mech tried his best to remember the term for separated human mates. "Ex-wife?" he guessed, hoping that was right word.

The sound of the gate doors opening hit the Autobots' receptors. Instantly, Bumblebee, Strongarm, Sideswipe, and Drift (with his minicons transformed into hubcaps back on his wrists) transformed into their alt modes. Meanwhile, Fixit hid in the remains of the Alcemore shuttle while Grimlock did his usual "giant-dinosaur-sculpture" act. The Dinobot stood in a pose with his mouth gaped open, legs sprawled, and tail curled high in the air.

.o.

Denny's cadet-blue pickup truck rolled into the scrapyard and stopped halfway-point between the gate entrance and his RV. The man turned and pulled his car keys out of the ignition, and the engine slowly died down. A heavy silence spread through both former partners like a gush of Arctic wind. Quietly, Denny drummed the top of the wheel with both his thumbs while his hands rested there in place. Carol narrowed her eyes on his rapping thumbs. Denny's noise-making came to an end and he pulled his hands away to rest them flat on his hips. Someone was going to have to speak first. Would this be a battle of them both unsheathing their weapons or could Denny use his newly built relationship with their son to establish peace with his ex?

"Denny, how could you?" she broke through.

Her sword was drawn first and plunged straight into Denny's chest.

"Carol, it was an accident and you know it," Denny replied softly in his defense.

Carol's face stiffened. She snapped her head toward her ex-husband and bore him with reddened eyes and a bitter frown. "You're never there Denny!" she bellowed.

"Carol, I know you're upset, I am too."

"You never act as the adult! And now our son is where he's at because of it!"

It was now Denny's turn for a blow of his own and he yelled back, "Now wait a damn minute! If you never believed I could watch him, why did you choose to let me watch him while you worked in Denmark? You never called that much while he was here!"

"I thought it would bring Russell and you closer!"

"It did. But Russell and I were here together all this time without you. So why are you playing all protective now?"

There was silence.

"Please don't go down that old road, Denny Clay. Russell was in trouble. He was failing school and hanging out with those bad kids who did God knows what to cause trouble around our neighborhood. I thought—" Carol stopped to find the right choice of words, "I thought if I had given him some time with his father then he wouldn't have felt as lost." She then turned away from Denny. "And now he has brain damage."

"Temporary brain damage, I'm hoping. Dr. Rokos told me that the effects may last for years, but with the right rehab and therapy, Russell may recover fully."

"It is an un-estimated amount of time?"

Denny bit back his tongue as he was annoyed by Carol's tone. He distastefully answered, "We'll get more info from the doctor on _Tuesday_. Anyways… from what she told me at the moment, we'll have to be extremely patient with him during this time. Reports have shown he gets memory loss, feels chills for no reason at all, and confusion of where he is and what he's doing. Also, his motor skills and sensory system are weakened, and due to respiratory issues from his post cardiac arrest, he'll need to have an EKG monitor on him always. From all these aftereffects, he's been showing signs of irritation which turns into aggression."

Carol's body began to tremble with an uncontrollable force. Her anger toward Denny dried up like an African plain during a serious drought. In its place, came internal fear and concern. She remembered Russell's behavior back at home with her. The impact of the divorce between her and Denny had caused him so much pain and thus resulted in isolating and impulsive behavior in their home and at school.

Carol feared the symptoms of Russell's accident would now recreate his former anger and resentment toward the world all over again. However, she knew the difference between stresses caused by partial brain damage due to physical shock and a child's negative reaction to a divorce were polar of each other. But they could both equal bad aftereffects for the victim's mentality and behavior. These two reasons were both parallel and complimentary of one another.

"His friends have been coming around endlessly to see when he'll come home," Denny let out a small chuckle. "One day, they snuck over to the children's hospital and tried forcing themselves into the care unit to see Russell in person. None of the kids gave the faculty as much trouble as Hank did."

"Friends?" Carol's broken heart started to rebuild by that unexpecting, joyous news.

"Yeah, you mean Russell didn't tell you he has friends now? He plays football with them two times out of the week. It's helped him become happier and more confident. Why, even that "Hank girl" comes to see him almost every day."

"A girl!" Carol responded with a chuckle and she gave a toothy smile. "And her name really is _Hank_?"

"Well, it's really "Henrietta," but yeah. I think our son has himself a little girlfriend!"

The uncontrolled enthusiasm in both parents' voices could not be contained. For years, both had secretly wished this for Russell. To have friends and to build relationships that could last for more than a few weeks at a time. Carol covered her gaped-open smile with her hand as she felt an overwhelmed feeling of how much progress her son had made while staying here with Denny. Was that all that she needed to do? Could the classic father-and-son bondage had been all but enough to cure Russell in his first moment of feeling as an outsider?

Throughout years of putting up with Denny's childish and irresponsible behavior as a parent, Carol would at least let him know that he did a job well done for promoting Russell and his social life However, she would not be honest and let her ex-husband know what she had tried to do in five years to help build up Russell's confidence; Denny could do in less than a few months. No, he would have to earn those true feelings from her one day, if he ever could. Then, Denny said something that made her suspicious.

"Carol," he coolly said, "there's something you need to know. It's a secret Rusty and I have been keeping here in the scrapyard for a while now."

Immediately thinking it was a pet dog Denny had gotten for Russell without her consent or a felony he was hiding in his scrapyard, Carol asked, "Well what is it?"

.o.

Wily-Mind: Denny better get his shit together about revealing the Autobots' existence to his ex-wife before she completely loses it. I changed the treatment scene in the operating room to therapeutic hypothermia treatment (aka Targeted Temperature Management), and added in Sophia's and Simi's conversation. There are three phases of TTM that consist of 1) induction (cooling the patient), 2) maintenance, 3) rewarming. TTM is still very new in the medical field practice. It's a clinical enhancement in which it raises mortality-rates in patients with respiratory failure and can improve neurological issues overtime. However, it's not perfect and still in study. TTM must be performed EARLY in surgery for the best results of the patient's well-being. This is why Sofia jumped to TTM after seeing Russell going into post cardiac arrest. (Sorry, a lot of info here).

I overlooked Sophia's character. She generally sees worst-case-scenarios after all the patients she has treated, yet she still manages to not give in and resign from trying to save lives in her medical field that is resuscitation (medical CPR). I grew to like and respect Sophia's character because of that. I developed a past for her so expect her to be seen in future scenes. Also, Russell's parents' and their divorce are based loosely on Robin Williams' character's marriage/divorce in _Mrs. Doubtfire._

Finally, (and I promise this is the end), another note is I'm not ignoring the Transformers of TF RID 15. To get the story's plot through, I had to first introduce it with Russell and his family's situation. This story is about Russell's recovery and how and If he overcomes it. I _do_ have plans to make Sideswipe, Drift, and Bumblebee more involved.


	3. Sweet Blizzardy Comforts

Wily-Mind: Warning: Chapter contains grim news and dark emotions. The next one will be on a lighter tone, promise.

.o.

"Carol, do you remember the _jack-a-lopes_ that Rusty and I claim to have seen that one camping trip years ago? We had no proof and the odds of there being real rabbits with antlers are slim to none?"

The woman sighed, "Yes."

"Well this time, I _do_ have proof," Denny paused, "but not of a jack-a-lope! This time, and please don't scream since we can't afford attention drawn to us; it's _aliens_."

Carol screamed. Not screaming of the fact that aliens were real but just the fact that Denny was playing another one of his stupid, insane games again with her.

"Denny Clay, you're a clown!" she hollered, "A damn, sadistic clown!"

Before Denny could react, his infuriated and fearless ex was pounding her fists into his torso. Through her defensive fit, she continued speaking, "Not even when your son's sick can you take anything seriously! You make me want to put a gun to my head!"

"That's an understatement," Denny's muttered. Unbeknownst to him, his words slipped right into Carol's hearing range.

Carol gave a swift and forceful kick to his shin, and Denny collapsed to the ground with the assailing mad woman on top of him. Her repeated flying fists would have left permanent imprints on his skin if Denny had not caught her with his bigger and stronger hands. The grown adults fought like children as they tossed and wrestled in the dirty snow. Finally, after a show of vocalized grunts and failed attempts at striking one another, Denny rolled Carol onto her back, thus pinning her.

He forcibly grabbed both sides of her face to make sure she was staring dead straight into his sincere eyes. He verbally told her she was right. He told her she didn't have any reason to believe him.

"But right now, Carol," he said, "I am telling you the truth. Out of all the stupid things I've seen, heard and believed in, this secret I'm telling you is _real_."

.o.

The sound of scuffling coming from around the tall pile of scrap reached Bumblebee's audio receptors. His front tire slightly motioned to the right as his engine unnervingly revved. The urge to investigate the neighboring crisis called through the mech's circuitry and processor. Then, he forcibly reminded himself to stay in alt-mode to prevent any irrational action he would've taken. If there was truly a fight going on inside Denny's scrapyard, the man would have to handle it on his own.

.o.

Carol sat in the snow crying. Her slimming jeans and tan coat were covered in mud that had come up from beneath the snowy ground after her struggle with Denny. Denny, still quiet, offered her a comforting hand to help her up. When she refused his gesture, Denny sat down next to her, and pulled her into a hug. He understood she already felt vulnerable to the fact of them nearly losing their son, who had awoken out of his coma a few days ago. Also, unbeknownst to Carol, she was going to have to process the idea of the Autobots. The final thing that Denny didn't want to fill Carol in on was the undergoing investigation into Aaron Skinner. Denny heard of the investigation from Shepherd Fowler, who Hank reported to the state trooper that it was Aaron who intentionally pushed Russell down the hill, in which led the boy to fall into the lake.

For the revealing of the Autobots, part of Denny didn't want to tell Carol, but with her staying to live with him in the scrapyard during Russell's transitioning period, she would have eventually become aware of the Autobots stationed there. It would be best if he were to show them to her, himself. As for investigation underway, Denny wasn't going to share that immediately with Carol. Denny's first fear would be that Carol would try to take the situation into her own hands and go to the Skinner's residence for answers. If the rumors about Aaron having a violence record were true, she'd most likely end up getting herself hurt, or she would worsen the situation. Second, Denny knew she would stop at no means in hounding Fowler, trying to get every nail and bit of information out of the poor man.

As Denny gently cradled Carol in his arms, he lifted his head, and called, "Bumblebee. Guys, it's okay to come out. This is Russell's mother, Carol. She'll be staying with us for when Russell comes home."

Carol wanted to push the crazy man away, but he gently strengthened his hold on her. Giving in, she began to hear a sharp clang of shifting sounds and gazed into the direction where Denny had his eyes set in. To her shock and awe, came five giant alien robots.

.o.

Bumblebee crouched down and supported himself on his left fist that connected to the snowy ground. The mech extended his right servo toward Carol Winther and uncurled his fingers in an inviting gesture. The woman stood and stared up at the mechanical giants in solid fear, wonder, and disbelief all tied into one sensation. Bumblebee analyzed her and noticed that the woman was so intensively focused on the Autobots that she had forgotten to speak. Bumblebee had never seen or rarely heard of Russell's mother from Denny and curiosity irked at him to find why Carol wasn't as involved with the father and son. The first encounter was going well so far, and Carol only flinched when Denny wrapped a wool blanket around her shoulders to shelter her from the cold weather.

"Still think I'm a damn, sadistic clown?" Denny grinned in a fashionable manner at Carol. He extended a hand toward the Autobots and said, "Carol, these guys are the biggest secret we have in the scrapyard, including on Earth. They're Autobots from their home planet which is called Cybertron. This is Bumblebee here, and the rest of the Autobots are his team."

"Ooh! Ooh! Hi, I'm Grimlock!" The emerald-and-black Dinobot passed through the group of Autobots to wave at the startled woman. Bumblebee tried to get Grimlock to back off but couldn't get a word in from Grimlock's shattering.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry about Russell. We'll all be helping to take care of him for when he comes back!" Grimlock smiled sincerely. Then, he made a gesture with his claw for Carol to wait in her spot for a moment.

Grimlock turned and headed behind a pile of scrapped washing machines and dryers. The Dinobot reemerged with something in his hold. Carol couldn't make out what the item was since it was covered behind Grimlock's claws. His booming footsteps finally stopped in front of Carol, and lowered the item into her arms.

The gift was a heavy, glittering blue ball and nearly dragged Carol down to the ground. With Denny's help in supporting her, Carol could hoist up the large orb. Dumbfounded, Carol stared directly at an image of a wobbly-outlined, green smilie-face on the ball's surface that stared right back up at her.

"Wow…" Carol said as she debated on what to say next about the poorly done paintjob. "This is…really nice."

Grimlock gasped in pure joy, began to wag his thick tail, and looked to Stongarm.

"I told you she would appreciate my artistic talent!" Grimlock gloated, "I told you I had strong _finesse_ with my skills."

Strongarm remembered the hideous monstrosity depicting her appearance in one of Grimlock's past art pieces. And the fact that someone bought the art piece for it to become a scare crow on her farm was even more insulting to the cadet. Strongarm decided to confront Grimlock later as to not frighten the new human.

"I guess you know now that Grimlock is our team's artistic visionary," Bumblebee said as he smiled down at Carol.

"Yeah, he _way_ surpasses my twin-spark, Sunstreaker," Sideswipe rolled his optics.

Bumblebee ignored Sideswipe, and instead, kept his focus on Carol. The woman set her gift from Grimlock onto the ground and refaced the lieutenant. Bumblebee extended his fingers closer to her and said, "Hello Carol. We're simply an Autobot group who've come here to Earth to stop and arrest fugitives from our home world. I lead these brave and dedicated warriors as we stay here on your planet. I want to let you know that Denny and Russell have been a great attribute to my team. The awareness of us Autobots being here on Earth hasn't come under any human radar thanks to their aid. Covering up and rescuing us from plenty of situations that could've proven disastrous for us, I can't express enough that Denny, and especially your son, have great valor."

Carol winced at the mention of her son, yet took gratification in the fact that a giant being would consider Russell of such value. Still, sadness washed over her.

The team leader continued.

"When I heard about Russell's near-drowning accident, I felt a sense of responsibility, that maybe I should've sent an escort with him that day. I apologize for my negligence and for the fact that Russell is suffering the consequences because of it."

"N-No," Carol softly said, "it wasn't your fault."

Carol had already blamed the event on Denny. Russell was old enough where he could have some free-roaming away from his home. She had to accept that Russell's near-drowning experience was an accident. It wasn't a fault of Denny not being watchful either, even though Carol really wanted to blame him. Between her ex-husband and the newly met stranger, she'd rather emotionally pin the fault onto her ex.

Bumblebee dimmed his optics to a shade of dark blue. He knew felt that the woman was currently struggling in her thought processing. Bumblebee still felt he could have been, that he, Sideswipe, Strongarm, or Drift could have done something to stop Russell from ever going to the slope with that bully Aaron. Denny was going to have to eventually tell Russell's mother that her son's near-drowning wasn't so much as an accident as she was being led on to believe. The human told Bumblebee that he first wanted Carol's mind to wrap around both ideas that first, Russell was in critical care, and second, the identity of the Autobots. Denny strictly followed this list of prioritizing.

"Like Grimlock said, we will be here if you need any help with caring for your son," Bumblebee said, "that's a solid promise."

"And do you promise to keep their being here on Earth a secret?" Denny asked Carol.

"I…I promise," Carol answered. She then looked up at Bumblebee and smiled a hopeful smile that was tenderly torn.

.o.

The first moment Dr. Rokos called them on the phone to set up an appointment for a medical update on Russell, the parents rushed to Crown City's Children Hospital. Cautious of the early warning reports of a blizzard and icy roads, Denny made sure to have driven them with care, only swerving a few times on the roads.

Now they had arrived, and Carol sat next to Denny in the office that belonged to Dr. Rokos. Throughout all the endless standing and running around Carol had done during the past month, her patience was growing thin. Jesus. The news she had received since she first arrived at Denny's. She learned that actual freakin' extra-terrestrials existed on Earth, and today she was in a doctor's office to hear of her son's second medical update. It wasn't like Carol believed that humans were the only intelligent life in the universe, but she also wasn't expecting to wake up of for the last three weeks to giant alien robots outside her RV.

The chair that Carol sat in was felted cushion with metallic armrests on the sides which Carol found pleasure in relaxing her arms on. The color of the cushiony area was a dull firebrick red. The temperature in the room was set at warm heat; much better to Carol than first walking through the frigid parking lot and into the hospital's entrance. The heated room and cushioned chairs were comforts from the outside where snow and hail packed on in layers. The delighting pleasures even mocked those who were outside freezing in the hail storm. Outside, people struggled to scrape the sticking snow and ice off their cars' windshields. How Carol wanted to be outside in the freezing temperature rather than in this comfortable, heated, and pleasurable doctor's office. The same office where she was to hear of her only child's possibly problematic future.

Another five minutes went by until Carol and Denny heard the small creaking of the office door opening. In came Dr. Rokos with a paper-filled clipboard in her left hand. Carol watched the woman who had saved her son in the operation. The doctress seemed mildly tired, gave them a slight smile, and she introduced herself to Carol and shook both her and Denny's hands.

Dr. Rokos then sat in a black, leather chair on the other side of her desk. She placed the heavy clipboard next to her left, locked her fingers together, and leaned forward slightly toward the parents.

"You probably have many of questions to ask," Rokos started.

"Yes, we wanted to ask if any recent tests this time showed that Russell may have either temporary or permanent brain damage?" Denny asked first.

"And, what extent of rehabilitation he will need, if any," Carol added.

"Of course," Rokos' said as her head nodded with approval over the direct questions. Carol knew it was never a leisure activity for a doctor to share news of a patient's after effects (if any) to their loved ones. Ready to present the news with calm professionalism, Rokos reached for her clipboard and held it in front of her.

"Due to the immediate TTM we had performed on your son, he will live a normal lifespan if his health is continuously monitored. Crown City's Children Hospital does offer rehab for young hypoxia patients who have suffered near-drowning like Russell," Rokos stated.

Both Carol and Denny sighed with ease. The doctress paused and shifted her eyes up from the clipboard to meet both parents' widened gazes.

"Mr. Clay and Ms. Winther, I know you're both anxiously waiting to take your son home after three weeks of him being in extensive care. However, he'll need to continue being hospitalized until we're sure that he can function physically outside to a lesser degree of severity.

"To a _lesser_ degree?" Denny asked.

"That's what I was about to get into. Russell's recovery is like that of someone with a broken leg. Once the patient with a broken leg is released they then need to keep woringk toward its healing by practicing walking on it. Pain in the leg will continue to happen through practice until its fully healed. In Russell's case, once he suffered post cardiac arrest, oxygen stopped going to his brain, thus creating hypoxia. Besides retraining his muscle system again, Russell's going to have mild to permanent brain damage."

Carol's and Denny's faces froze. The father felt he could've jumped out of his chair and holler at the doctress who had told him that his son's brain damage would most likely be temporary. _Not_ permanent. Being the respectful and mindful, Denny settled for tightly gripping his chair's armrests. As for Carol, she felt like she was falling down the rabbit hole in the _Alice In Wonderland_ movie.

"But wait, you said _mildly_. That does mean his symptoms won't be as severe, right?" Carol asked.

"Brain damage does affect the physiology and neurological aspects of the body. I'll get more into that after the report. As you already know, Russell does show signs of short-term memory loss. Sometimes when he's told something, he forgets the details in less than 45 minutes to two hours. Sometimes he can even forget who he's with and what he's doing, even what he's either happy or angry about. His sensory systems are currently damaged. His sight can become blurry, his hearing will interpret sounds being either quieter and, or louder than they are to our ears. For example, once he even complained of hearing high-pitched static. Finally, his sense of touch isn't as sensitive and the taste of foods and drinks are nearly bland to him."

Rokos flipped two more pages over and continued to read.

"As for his motor skills, Russell's muscles have become laxed and exercising them has proven painful. We haven't tried helping him to walk yet and things such as picking up items, writing, and even _talking_ takes great effort out of him. We've been communicating with him mostly with charades and pointing to various places on his body that hurt. Remember what I said about the broken leg scenario? It will take a lot of effort on Russell's part to retrain his muscles for them to recover."

"As for the speaking…" Carol paused, "will that improve over time? Or will he be partially mute?"

"The reports aren't sure of that right now," Sofia answered, "All that can done is to get him prepped for rehab. I have to let you know that he'll have to stay hospitalized for a couple to few months during this time."

"What!" Denny finally jumped up.

The doctress flinched as she removed her hands from her own desk while the man violated her personal space.

"Why didn't you tell us that earlier over the phone?" Denny demanded.

"We needed to make sure of a time for his hospitalizing care and rehabilitation before we gave you both an answer timewise."

Carol grabbed Denny's hand and the gesture got the man to sit back down in his chair.

Carol asked, "Could you explain the procedure of TTM?"

"In terms that we can understand, please," Denny noted, his aggravation subsiding for the moment.

Rokos' shoulders and hands relaxed, and she placed her clipboard onto the table. She leaned forward again and explained, "TTM stands for Targeted Temperature Management or "Therapeutic Hypothermia," in more scientific terms. TTM is a 48-to-72 hour process in which the patient, like Russell, goes through a cooling phase and gradually rewarmed to core body temperature. The treatment raises the chances of lesser mortality and neurological issue rates."

"So how come Russell has permanent brain damage?" Denny asked, his temper rising again over the mention of "neurological issue."

Rokos wearily inhaled and exhaled as Carol eyed Denny. Her ex-husband rarely showed any signs of aggression or anger, but Carol knew when Denny felt he had been cheated out of any fairness that he would speak up. Denny was a man of acting and not being acted upon by others. Being the same way, it was one of Denny's greatest qualities that attracted Carol to him in the past. But, eventually that flame was no longer lit as it had turned into only mere respect—was that flame still no longer lit?

Carol could only imagine the events that could've happened with Russell while under the care of Denny with giant, mechanical beings in the scrapyard. The idea of the Autotbots getting around with their big feet, or pedes, while Russell was with them didn't seem to be called "safe" to her. _Denny should've been more responsible and have told me about the Autobots_. _Also, only this accident could've happened under Denny's watch_ , she thought. Then, something about her thinking made her stop. Carol was beginning to judge Denny again based solely only on what she saw, and not what she was there for. Carol had to admit that Denny's stories of him and Russell bonding and working on Russell's social life had been proven true. Hank had come by the scrapyard to see if her best friend, Russell, had returned. A pinch of sadness hit Carol as she realized that later she would have to tell the poor girl that Russell wasn't coming home today.

Then, Roko's voice tore Carol out of her thoughts.

"It's because TTM isn't perfected to the medical world just yet, Mr. Clay," Rokos' answered, "TTM was first invented and practiced in the 1950's. That's not very long for medical practicing and knowledge. Also, more research about the procedure is known more about adults who have suffered hypoxia than children. Adult physiology greatly differs from that of children physiology. With Russell's age at him being twelve would be different than that of an adult man in his twenties. But besides the neurological and physical symptoms, Russell _is_ very lucky to have survived his hypoxia post-cardiac arrest and that he woke up out of his coma so early. More than 50,000 people and plus die per year from hypoxia and many of the survivors may not awake from their comatose states until several months later. Russell being awake can help us in the long run to treat him since he can partly communicate to us where he feels pain in which we can pinpoint where action needs to be taken."

"Okay," Carol said as she nodded, "but what caused some of his brain cells to die and warp his motor skills?"

"When the heart stops pumping oxygen into the brain, the absence of oxygen creates excitement in the neurons that're inside the brain. The brain tells the body to go into survival mode and the neuroexcitation releases high contents of calcium and glucose. We all release glucose in short bursts of physical activities such as running and jogging. It's only when the glucose is released uncontrollably is when it attacks and kills brain cells as the glutamate mistakes them as dangerous hosts to the body. Also, uncontrolled glucose can't be broken down so lactic acid is produced which can build up in the muscles and cause degration. Inflammation to the lungs occurs as well. Not only Russell's lungs maybe problematic, but also his liver, and brain, as you already know. All three organs are heavily effected when the body is deprived of oxygen."

"Thankfully, Russell's respiratory issues weren't that severe that he needed to be on ventilation for long. Sometimes, even those machines can cause a lung infection in those in critical condition. With Russell being able to breathe on his own, at the moment, we won't have to worry about that possibility. Finally, because of his cardiac arrest, he'll need to have an EKG monitor on at always. The EKG will monitor his heartrate and let you know if it murmurs or skips a beat. Sometimes, out-of-hospital patients who suffered from hypoxia can go into seizures."

Carol burrowed her face into her hands as she fought to hold back her dismayed tears. The nightmare was only beginning. Denny rubbed her back gently. Carol wanted to fight back against him trying to soothe her but chose not to.

"I'm sorry this causes discomfort for you both," Rokos sincerely apologized.

She let the massive amount of news settle into the parents before picking up again.

"Once he returns home, you'll both have to monitor his emotions and behavior carefully. Russell won't be expected to understand his new limitations immediately, and for that message to settle into him will take both a steady and firm hand on both your parts." Rokos paused as she thought of the two's current marital status. She softly said, "I don't recommend traveling when he's out of the hospital and back home with you both."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Carol asked as she lifted her face up out of her hands.

Rokos pulled back, Carol knowing that the doctor had nailed a sensitive spot.

"All I'm saying is that depending on who lives closest to Crown City, Russell should be with that parent," the Rokos answered firmly.

Carol, mouth wide open, stared at the doctor with disbelief. Carol already had the feeling that the situation of which parent Russell would stay with would come into play. Yet,it was the fact that Rokos had used her and Denny's divorce as an example, that it may cause a problem in Russell's recovery. Immediately, the room became just as frigid and cold between Carol Winther and Sofia Rokos just as the blizzard.

Rokos broke the silence by saying, "I must insist the fact that you must be patient with your son during his _outbursts_."

"Outbursts?" Carol blinked, "What do you mean by outbursts?"

Carol's transitioned from self-defense to horror and déjà vu. _No, no!_ she thought, _this can't be happening! I barely survived the first time. Not again!_

"Y-You mean Russell's been acting up? You told us in the beginning that he's just been a bit agitated is all." Denny clasped his hands together as he rested them on his knees and leaned forward in sadness. His son recently behaved so well back at the salvage yard, in school, with his friends, and with his father Denny. How on Earth could Russell's behavior gone sour?

"Well, his agitation has turned into violent outbursts of threats toward the staff."

"Not my son!" Denny's said as he straightened his back.

"Well, then I don't see any reason why Russell's assistant nurse would stop working with him," said Rokos as her face turned stern. Rokos continued in a defensive tone, "he threw a cup of water and spat on her."

Denny and Carol sat there. They couldn't deny the doctress' story and call her a liar. They both knew that Russell had anger problems in the past and there was no use in convincing themselves otherwise. The guilt-stricken parents didn't know what to do or say to apologize on behalf of their son's behavior toward the nurse.

"W-we're sorry toward your staff," Carol apologized.

"When is he coming home?" Denny asked, "If this is going to take more work than we originally thought, what do you suggest for us to prepare for when Russell comes home to make him as comfortable as possible?"

"I'm not a psychologist but I would suggest much patience, a gentle but firm hand, and acceptance toward your son in whatever the future brings," Rokos' answered softly.

.o.

It had been only two and a half weeks ago when Russell Clay awoke from his coma. He remembered waking to the sight outside his window where a dull bluish sky lay. There were no snowflakes falling that day and the air was getting colder before the blizzard would hit Crown City. He remembered painfully turning his head slightly to the right and his blurry vision vaguely made out the form of a nurse. He was so sedated that day from the drugs that he barely noticed that the muscles in his mouth weren't responding when he wanted to ask the nurse on what was going on. His assigned nurse, Kathy Conwell, noticed he had awoken and immediately alerted the doctors. Russell remembered his horrifical realization that he couldn't speak properly that day and it would continue into his current moment.

Kathy continued to aid Russell in drinking and eating. It was miserably embarrassing for Russell to have such help. The first few days of him waking out of his coma was a nightmare. Most of the time, Russell struggled whenever he was fed, bathed, and changed into a new gown. Kathy became a little irritable over the next week as Russell's fight for impossible independence got to her. However, she kept herself patient and calm, coaxing Russell to drink or eat whenever possible.

Russell hated the way Kathy and two other staff would change him into a new gown. It was so painful the way they handled him that he felt his muscles were going to be pulled out of their sockets. Kathy would grip his arm in such a way that it caused Russell to let out a primal howl. She told him that she understood the effects of his physical pain but to try not fighting against the nurses as they dressed him. The other two nurses were a bit gentler. Kathy was the only one that caused Russell to feel more strain on his body.

Then, it all changed. In one day, Kathy refused to assist Russell again while he stayed in the hospital and Russell couldn't have liked it even more.

Russell was laying on his back, supported up by the risen end of the gurney, and Kathy had come into the room with a Styrofoam cup of water. She asked him in a grim tone if he was going to cooperate and be a good boy as she was to give him water. Russell had nodded and was mentally reciting the plan as she had gotten closer to him. She roughly took his hand, not surprising to Russell as he had winced over the harsh treatment. As she was about to hand him the cup and help him to maneuver it to his lips, Russell used all his strength his body could muster up, and knocked the water onto Kathy's scrubs-clothing. Her chest had been soaked and all of Kathy's patience trying to coax Russell into doing what she wanted had wasted away and from the ashes came ferocity. Kathy had tightly grasped Russell's wrist, calling him a brat and punk. Russell responded by spitting in her face. The staff considered Russell's behavior toward the assistant nurse as "unsafe" and an "emotional disturbance." They decided on sedating him and Russell had slept with good feelings that he would no longer have to work with his Kathy.

Now, here Russell laid in his hospital bed as he stared out the open door. He could hear the symphony of beeps and clicks from the EKG machine he was hooked up to. He smelt the potent scent that was sterilization and cotton blankets. Russell shivered as he felt a piercing coldness run through his body. He tried his best to snuggle into the heated blankets his new and second assistant nurse had brought him.

The boy missed his parents.

Russell couldn't even remember the day his dad came to see him when he had freshly gained consciousness. He remembered hearing inaudible voices from blurred out shadows that stood above him. Then, there was a big and warm hand that soothingly wrapped around Russell's smaller and colder one. No doubt his dad.

Sniffling, Russell buried his face into his blanket. He wished he had the physical strength to hoist himself up and off the bed and to go ask someone, besides the hospital staff, if his parents were here to visit him. From the series of physical ailment, sedations, and stupid nurses, Russell had grown quickly to hate this white room. Why did he ever have to come here and be succumbed to this torture?

Suddenly, shock overtook the boy, and the line on the EKG monitor slightly.

Aaron Skinner.

Russell trembled in rage and fought so hard to keep the feeling. At the same time, another wave, no _tsunami_ , of emotions of sadness, fright, and disbelief overtook him. The entire mixture of emotions ached and tore at the boy's heart. His rage eventually lost, Russell started to bawl into tears. The only solution for a twelve-year-old boy in Russell's heart-wrenching state was that he wanted his family and friends right there and now.

A godsend must have answered his begging call as rushed footsteps entered the room, and Russell felt himself pulled into a warm and sheltering embrace that refused to let go. He laid in the arms as he continued to cry for a good solid two minutes as the person holding him gently tried shushing him. Eventually, Russell's tears ceased and he slightly opened his eyes for them to reveal his mom, Carol, as the one crooning him. For the first time in months since she had left Russell with his dad to travel to Copenhagen in Denmark for her job, the boy was finally able to see his mother again. Despite the unfavorable condition that brought them back together. Her bright and comforting face coaxed Russell out of his emotional state and he gradually quieted his sobs and sniffles.

Russell's eyes shifted upward to see his dad beginning to hold Carol, who held her son. In return, Russell laid an achy hand on his mother's arm, and at that moment, the family was whole again for the longest time.


End file.
